


Snow and Stone

by tyzvlas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Jon is a Targaryen, Post-Canon, daenerys is a lesbian because i said so, jonsa, post resurrection jon, sansa is alayne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:46:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyzvlas/pseuds/tyzvlas
Summary: Five years after Alayne made her descent to the Gates of the Moon, the southern war is finally brought to her husband, lord of the Vale. An old friend visits to find men for their cause, and Alayne must choose between the lie she has been forced to live for most of her adolescence with the family she has come to love, or her past life as Sansa Stark and the family that she left behind.
Relationships: Arianne Martell/Daenerys Targaryen, Harrold Hardyng/Alayne Stone, Jon Snow/Alayne Stone, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Alayne**

Alayne stared up at the canopy as small slivers of sunshine fell slowly into the room. Her room at the Gates of the Moon had been her home for the ongoing winter nearing five years now. A basin of water sat at the opposite side of the room, brought in by a servant early in the morning. Alayne found her way to the basin and washed her face, arms, and teeth. She looked to her husband asleep in bed, and wiped her hands and face on a piece of cloth. She rang a small bell and a servant came rushing in to help her dress. Alayne wore a white fur dress with house Hardyng’s sigil on the breast. The overcoat was trimmed with wolf’s fur. It almost made her weep, remembering her past life.  _That’s all over now_ ,  she thought . _You’re Alayne Hardyng, lady of the Vale_.  Alayne left her husband snoring in bed and started her day. 

First, she found her way to the nursery. Little Sharra was already awake and being looked after by her wet nurse when Alayne entered. She dismissed the nurse and started combing through her young daughter’s hair. She hummed a small melody she had remembered from her childhood, a sad and quiet song that was often played at Winterfell during feasts. Sharra’s light auburn hair fell down to her shoulders in loose ringlets, and Alayne was finished combing rather quickly. She looked at her daughter through the looking glass. She resembled Alayne’s siblings.  _ No _ , _t_ _ hose were Sansa’s siblings. Alayne has no one _ . She smiled at her daughter and held her little hand, leading her out of the room. 

“Would you like to wake up father?” Sharra nodded, and skipped down the hallway to where Harry was still sleeping. Alayne chased after her, which wasn’t difficult even though Sharra was running as fast as her three-year-old legs could take her. Alayne smiled as she watched her daughter climb onto her bed, shaking her husband awake. 

“Father! Father! It’s time to get up,” she shouted, tugging at the blankets. 

“Sharra! Where is your mother?” Sharra pointed to Alayne, who was standing in the doorway looking on. Harry rose from the bed and gave Alayne a small and light peck on the cheek. 

“We have an important day today, father said so last night. A visitor is coming, though his name had to be kept secret. The war has been brought to us at last.” Harry clenched his fist at those words, and Alayne rubbed his shoulders. “It will be alright,” she said in attempt to assure her husband. 

He shrugged her off. “It won’t be, and you know that. We barely have enough men to guard the castle as it is, let alone fight in a war.” 

Alayne thought for a moment. “There’s always the mountain clans, they were bought off by the Lannisters years ago, they could be bought off again.” Harry began to get dressed for the day. 

“No that won’t work. We can’t outbid the Lannisters.” 

“We needn’t outbid  anyone . They aren’t getting paid at present, any amount of money will do for impoverished men. Seven Hells, we could just promise them land where they would go unmolested and they’d likely give us men.” Harry looked to his wife with disdain in his eyes. 

He considered it for just a moment. “That is out of the question. We will just tell whomever is visiting that we have no men for them.” 

“And if they don’t believe us? If they think we’re plotting with the Lannisters?” 

Harry found his way to Alayne and kissed her. “You are so beautiful, then you ruin it by speaking.” 

Alayne stood there, dumbfounded. She gained her composure and replied, “You’re right, how silly of me. I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Lord Hardyng.” Alayne called her husband by his formal title when she was angry with him, and she could tell how much it irked him. 

“Alayne, please. My head is pounding, not today.” Sharra tugged on Alayne’s dress and rubbed her tummy. 

“One moment, Sharra.” Alayne whipped around to face her husband. “Whatever happens today happens. I’ll not interfere with your work, my lord.” She curtsied and held Sharra’s hand as they made their way to the kitchen to break their fast. 

Alayne’s father was waiting for them in the kitchen, snacking on cheese and bread. Alayne grimaced as he kissed her on the cheek. “Good morning, father.” Alayne grabbed a sweet tart and an apple for her breakfast. She helped Sharra find some bread and butter. 

“Hello my dear Alayne. Our visitor should be here soon.” 

Alayne turned to face her father, leaning on a nearby countertop. “Why can’t you tell me his name again?” She took a bite of her apple. 

“I promised full anonymity, Alayne. Don’t ask again.” He stormed out of the room. 

Alayne made her way through the empty halls of the fortress to the throne room, holding little Sharra’s hand. The Gates of the Moon was a lot smaller of a castle than the Eyrie itself, but less people occupied it most of the time so they made do. The throne room was not near as grand, and there was no moon door in the middle waiting for an unlucky man to step through. Alayne thought back to when she first became Alayne. Her aunt, whom she had trusted and tried very hard to love, tried to push her through to her death. The memory gave her a chill as she and Sharra found their places near the small throne her husband was seated at. 

“Ah, my dear wife. Our visitor has come, he will be in shortly.” Harry stroked Alayne’s long dark hair, pushing it behind her ear. Alayne sat there, stoic. No amount of hair stroking would forgive the way he had disrespected her earlier that morning.  _Alayne, you are a strong woman and bastard brave now. You won’t be disrespected in your own home_. 

The brass doors slowly opened after a few moments of waiting, and three men stepped into the throne room. Alayne couldn’t quite make out their faces through the crowd of people, but she’d see who they were soon enough. A man with wisps of white hair and a scraggly, aging beard stepped forward. Alayne recognized him almost as soon as she saw his face. He was much older than the last time she had seen him in front of the iron throne, cursing her then betrothed king Joffrey for dismissing him, slaying men as he stormed out. This man was an old friend of her father’s, no. An old friend of Sansa’s father. It was Barristan Selmy. 

“My lord, I present my liege, Jon Snow, of the house Targaryen.” Alayne’s body went numb.  _It can’t be_ , she thought. But it was. He stepped forward, he had a slight limp, no doubt from years of hardship at the wall. He didn’t look the same as the day they departed all those years ago. He looked like...father. Sansa’s father. Alayne found  _her_ father’s face through the crowd. His lips were twisted into a sick smile, his fingers stroking the spade shaped beard on his chin. 

Alayne didn’t pay attention to any of what anyone in that throne room said. Her mind was a blank, and sound just passed through her. The guests were shown to their rooms and Alayne set off to eat supper with her husband and daughter. First though, she would speak with her father. 


	2. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's unwanted journey to the Vale is encouraged by his aunt, Daenerys. After a small stop in Braavos, Ser Barristan starts acting strangely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!!  
> sorry for the long wait for the chapter, my phone has been broken so i had to scrap that jon draft that i had written. i'm messing with canon a lot here so before the chapter please know  
> \- stannis lost the battle for winterfell  
> \- the boltons still hold the north  
> \- jon thinks arya (jeyne) is still married to ramsay  
> \- myrcella is still in dorne as a hostage  
> \- all those loyal to stannis are now with daenerys  
> \- jon was resurrected by melisandre, who now advises daenerys  
> \- melisandre believes that daenerys is azor ahai  
> \- bran is still beyond the wall  
> \- howland reed told jon his parentage  
> \- jon is still a bastard, there was no r+l wedding, so he still goes by snow  
> \- euron is "lost at sea"  
> i might try to include other character POVs but for now i'm sticking with justjon and alayne as they're the main focus of this story :)

Jon paced back and forth beside Dragonstone's painted table. "I should be commanding an army, not running off to secure lands _diplomatically_. What if they don't have men to spare?" Daenerys stood up from her seat at the head of the table and made her way to Jon, rubbing his shoulder to comfort him.

"You can't be killed in battle, Jon. You and Barristan are the most important men at my side. We need house Hardyng's support, I already explained this. With them we will have four of the seven kingdoms. We'd have enough men to march on Winterfell." She turned away from Jon and made her way to Barristan. 

With the mention of Jon's childhood home, he nearly wept. How many years had it been since he hugged his brother Robb goodbye and made his way to the wall? Gods, things seemed so simple then. It was his wish to die at the wall...and he did. Now he served a different cause, taking the iron throne from the grasp of the Lannisters and giving it to Daenerys. It was easier said than done. She had come to Westeros at the beginning of winter, and it had only gotten worse since then. "I'll go," Jon said, closing his eyes to not let any tears escape. "I'll go under one condition."

"You will go because I command it, my lord." Daenerys wasn't one to negotiate easily, especially with Jon.

"I will go if we take Winterfell right after. My sister is still trapped there, married to Bolton's bastard." Jon's mouth was hard, and his tone nonnegotiable. 

Daenerys considered it for a moment. "Yes, alright. If she was my sister I would want her back too." Daenerys took a deep breath. "What about your other sister? Sansa?"

Jon turned away. "She's been missing since her husband killed the king." 

"Surely she is somewhere? She has a better claim than you, the northern lords would rally behind a Stark, even a Stark woman."

He considered it, and stroked his beard. "Perhaps you're right. After I go to the Vale, we can discuss finding her." 

#

Jon had never really enjoyed sailing. He much preferred to ride, to get there on land, but Daenerys insisted that the safest way to the Vale was a ship to Braavos, then to the port at Old Anchor. It had been several long days at sea, the winter water wasn't kind to them. Ser Barristan was the worst on deck, the old man would constantly be over the railing spewing vomit into the ocean. Jon was grateful that the journey to Braavos was not too long, the more time spent on this boat the more he wanted to hurl himself over the edge. 

He was breaking his fast with some crewmen one morning when Barristan approached. "Good morning, Jon." Jon grunted in response. Ignoring his lack of manners, Barristan said, "Captain says we will be at Braavos in a few hours. You'd be wise to leave to ship when we make port." 

"You'd be wise to leave a man to his breakfast, ser," Jon replied, taking a bite out of his bread.

Barristan did not reply, and instead sat opposite Jon, taking his own meal. One of the men at the table made a jape, and Jon stormed away.

Surely enough, the did arrive in Braavos after a few hours. The large statue loomed over their ship as they passed through his legs. Jon saw an explosion of culture on a scale he had never seen before. The ships in the port were intricately decorated, and some seemed to be permanent homes. Some of the men joked about hiring a courtesan for the night, to which another man would jape about how he doesn't have that kind of money. Jon stood stoic on the bow until the landed. When his feet hit the ground, his stomach lurched. After the dizziness went away, he almost laughed. It felt good to be on dry land for the first time in days.

"The queen arranged for us to have rooms at some inn, I will go find it," Barristan told Jon, leaving him next to the boat. Jon began to explore the city, making note of where he was as to not lose his way. He walked past a brothel, and a square of merchants. He used a few coins to buy a clam, and almost vomited again when he tasted it. A young girl, with the look of Westeros, bumped into him as she ran with other children. She stared into his eyes,and ran away after a few seconds. _That was strange_ , Jon thought as he continued walking. 

After about an hour of exploring the docks of Braavos, Jon made his way back to the boat. When he made it there Barristan was still gone. "Where's Ser Barristan?" He asked the men, two of which were missing as well. "Where are the others? Why is everyone gone, we should be getting to the inn soon." The two missing men stumbled back a few minutes later with smiles on their faces and whores on their arms. Jon approached them both and slapped them. "We aren't here to whore about, we must find Ser Barristan and the inn." Some of the men agreed with him, and they were on their way. 

Jon and the men split up their search, looking in every brothel and inn they could find, and found their way back to the ship as soon as the sun started to sink in the sky. "He's gone," the last man to arrive said to Jon. "We'll have to sleep on the boat." 

Jon was restless that night, sleeping in the same cabin he had been in for days even though there was a whole city of warm beds. He decided to walk out and look at the stars. Jon held the railing of the bow, looking into the dark water below, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He acted quickly, pulling out his dagger and holding it to the owner of the hand's throat. 

"Woah there, Jon." It was Barristan, with his face covered in blood.

"What happened to you?" Jon asked, lowering his weapon and sheathing it at his belt. 

"Don't worry about it. We need to sail for Old Anchor immediately. This isn't a safe place for us."

Jon didn't question it and woke the captain.

#

The ride to the Gates of the Moon proved to be a harrowing task. Jon's horse was a fast one, and he had taken to calling her Shade. She was black as night, opposite of his direwolf, Ghost. Jon had left Ghost in Daenerys's care, as a boat was no place for a wolf. He would occasionally slip into Ghost's skin to make sure he's alright, and do a bit of hunting if he was hungry. He would've liked Shade and Ghost to meet one day. 

Barristan was not himself during the ride. He was stoic and demanding, and at times rude. Jon had taken note that he had not been the same since the night spent in Braavos. He didn't dare ask about it, he didn't really like Barristan to begin with. Some knight in Daenerys's guard that Jon hadn't had the time or the energy to meet accompanied them on their way to the Gates of the Moon. He liked to _sing_. It reminded Jon of his old friend Pyp, still at the wall. It was the only reason Jon didn't murder the man every time he opened his mouth.

They made great time to the Gates of the Moon, arriving there on a brisk morning, just before the midday snows started. Jon was received by a woman with her hair cut short. She introduced herself as Mya Stone. _A bastard_ , Jon thought, smiling. Mya took Jon to the main throne room, where men and women were gathered to be introduced. Barristan spoke first, introducing Jon. 

He looked around the room, sizing up the lords and ladies of the vale. To the right of Lord Hardyng was his wife, Lady Alayne Hardyng, Petyr Baelish's baseborn daughter. Alayne held a small girl in her lap, Jon assumed her to be their daughter. The little girl had auburn hair, which was puzzling to Jon considering the fact that neither of the girl's parents had that color. 

Jon bent his knee and bowed to Lord Hardyng. "It's a pleasure to be received by you, my lord." Harry signaled for him to rise.

"It is our pleasure to have you here. Come, my lord. We must discuss this war in my solar."


	3. Daenerys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys is grateful for her break from warfare, and an envoy from Cersei Lannister shows up at Dragonstone with a letter.

Daenerys stared out onto the rushing waters of Blackwater Bay, taking in the sounds of the island. She finally had a moment of peace. No Barristan, no Jon, just herself and her princess. Arianne was quietly snoring in the bedroom behind her, and she smiled. The chilly winter air pierced through her robe, but she let it. There would be no more warfare until Jon came back with or without the Vale’s support. That could take weeks, or even a month, so Dany would take all the time she could to take in the life on Dragonstone she had dreamed of since she was a girl. Since Viserys told her that she was to dream of it. 

Arianne stirred from the bed and made her way behind Daenerys, wrapping her arms around Dany and placing her head on her shoulder. Dany leaned into the embrace, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “It is chilly out here, my queen. Come back to bed, it’s warm there,” Arianne said in her Dornish accent. Daenerys smiled at the sound of her. 

“My sweet princess, the sounds of the sea are calming.” 

“We can be calm in the bed, sweet dragon. Besides, we don’t have much time before we must be in the throne room to speak with Cersei’s envoy.” Arianne held Dany’s hand and led her back to bed. The women lay there looking at each other, and Dany pushed a stray hair behind Arianne’s ear. 

“Who’s the envoy this time,” Daenerys asked, stretching her arms out.

“Supposedly some green Tyrell boy.” Arianne pulled the covers up. 

“We’ll have your brother, Trystane greet him.”

Arianne looked at her, puzzled. “Do you wish to insult the Tyrells? Dany, our families are well known enemies, since the Gardeners were disposed of!”

“Precisely. The Tyrells are eating out of Cersei’s hand, there’s no way they would ever switch sides, so why should we bother trying to not offend them?” Daenerys lept out of bed to dress. 

Arianne let out a deep chuckle. “Are you sure you want to make an enemy of the Tyrells?” 

Daenerys looked back at her, and raised an eyebrow. “They are already our enemies. I have faith in Jon, my love. He will bring us the Vale. With the Vale we have an edge to finally take the North, and with all but two kingdoms standing with us, Cersei won’t stand a chance.” 

“You’re wicked, your grace. Absolutely wicked!” Daenerys crawled over the mattress to kiss her princess. 

“Only to those that wage war against me.” Daenerys slipped off her robe and slid into a fresh chemise. “And it’s not  wicked , as you say. being greeted by a Martell is better than some green boy could ever hope for.” 

Daenerys dressed herself decadently, it was important that she looked the part of a queen with an enemy in her midst. She wore a black and red gown, the colors of her house, with the three headed dragon of house Targaryen’s sigil sewn into the breast. 

The Dragonstone throne always felt less comforting to her than the bench Daenerys had rested her royal hide on in Meereen. It was daunting and large, and not nearly enough cushioning to keep her cheeks from being sore at the end of the day, yet still, she endured. To be a queen is to rule, no matter the pain. 

Daenerys proudly scanned the throne room once she took her seat. She saw her blood riders, and her dearest friends Missandei, Irri, and Jhiqui. Ser Jorah stood beside her, as captain of her Queensguard. She knew he wished to be beside her at all times, even when she was in the bedroom, but she still refused to entertain the thought of being with him. She was content with Arianne; happier than she had been with Daario and her sun-and-stars. 

The envoy entered, and eyes all around turned to him. Daenerys intended to sound sweet yet stern, and if the boy would try anything, Drogon was just outside. “Hello...ser...?”

“Ser Willam Tyrell, if it please your grace. Cousin to King Tommen’s wife.” The boy looked to be barely fifteen. He was trembling, on one knee bending for Daenerys. 

“And what have you brought for me today?” The boy took a step toward the throne, and Ser Jorah unsheathed his sword. “Stand down, Jorah. He’s just a boy, let him pass and give me the letter.” 

The boy smiled and again walked towards her, at ease with her words. He placed in her hand a rolled up piece of parchment, sealed in wax with the sigil of house Lannister.  _ Why didn’t she seal it with Baratheon’s sigil _ , she wondered, breaking the deal and unrolling the parchment. The letter was signed my King Tommen. Illegitimate King Tommen. 

“Curious,” Daenerys whispered under her breath. 

“Your grace, what does the letter say?” Ser Jorah overstepped his bounds and places a hand on her shoulder, which she quickly shrugged off.

“The king writes that our efforts are wasted. That we will lose this war and any war to come. He writes that he will crush us like the Starks, and run us out of Westeros.” Daenerys crumbled up the parchment, and threw it to the side. “Cersei’s words, no doubt.” 

“Should I draft a reply, your grace,” Maester Pylos asked. 

“No. The queen will not have my words on paper, but she will hear me. I will not give up until my rightful seat is restored. I will not give up until her reign of tyranny is over. We have almost all the support we need to start a proper war. This has been three years in the making. If it’s war that Cersei wants, then Cersei will get it.” Daenerys leaned to talk directly to the Tyrell boy. “Tell your queen this. I have three fully grown dragons, an army of Dothraki, an army of Unsullied, an army of Freemen, and an army of Westerosi. You go and tell her that her words will not deter me from the Iron Throne.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter is a little shorter than what i usually go for but there wasn’t much that i needed to do here, this was mostly to just introduce the feud between cersei and daenerys. there might not be another daenerys chapter until jon leave the vale


	4. Alayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alayne discusses the court appearance of Sansa Stark’s brother with her father, and meets an old friend after.

The long halls seemed longer as Alayne bunched up her skirts and ran down them, her shoes clicking against the floor. It took her little time to find her father’s chambers, and she waited patiently on his bed. Sharra had been handed off to Myranda Royce so that Alayne could have this conversation. 

Petyr Baelish marches into his chambers with the smooth grace that comes from a liar’s foot. He noticed Alayne, and she immediately found her way to him. “A kiss, my dear Alayne?”

“You’ve no right to my affection, father. You lied to me.” Petyr sat on his bed and gestured for Alayne to sit next to him. She crossed her arms and looked over his figure, refusing to give into him. 

“I haven’t lied about anything. I simply withheld information.” Petyr stroked his spade-shaped beard. 

“Do you mean to frighten me, father? Scare me into not conversing with my own brother?” Alayne bunched her hands into fists. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m a woman, and a mother. You cannot frighten me.” 

“I don’t mean to frighten you, child. I mean to protect you.” Petyr walked over to Alayne, stroking her chestnut hair and pushing it behind her shoulders. He moved behind her and whispered in her ear, “my sweet little flower, you cannot trust this man.”

Alayne quickly recoiled. “He is my brother, he is my  _ blood _ . He is the first Stark I have seen since they took my father’s head, and you mean to keep my identity hidden from him?”

“You sweet little fool. This man is no brother of yours. Jon Snow of house  _ Targaryen _ , they said.” 

“That...that cannot be so. He is my father’s bastard—“

Petyr cut her off by pinching her arm tightly. “Your father has but one bastard, and it is you. Ned Stark had a bastard named Jon Snow. Ned Stark also had a head, which changed due to circumstance. Anything can change, my sweet.” 

Tears clouded Alayne’s vision when she remembered Sansa Stark’s father. She saw his head rolling, and she remembered the feeling of Boros Blount holding her back and making her watch. But that was a thousand years ago, and Sansa Stark is dead. “And if Jon Snow is to recognize me?”

“Jon snow will see naught but a pretty maid, mother to an orange-haired girl, the lord of the Vale’s wife.” Alayne chewed on her lip. 

“May I speak with him? Not as Sansa Stark, but as the lady of the Vale?” Petyr rubbed Alayne’s shoulders. 

“If you wish, though I will be very disappointed if you identity were to slip, sweetling.”

Alayne looked down at the ground. “It won’t.” 

Alayne made her way out of her father’s room. Her heart pounded as she tried to find her way to the guest chambers. Her fingers gently scraped the walls, and her steps were tricky and not balanced.  _ Oh please, Jon recognize me. Someone please, see who I am. I am not dead _ . Sansa’s voice still lingered with Alayne’s. She pushed the thoughts away and continued on her way to Jon.  _ Speak to him as the lady of the castle, Alayne. This is business, not a reunion _ . The winding stairway that exited the tower Petyr’s chambers were located in seemed steeper ryan they were yesterday. Alayne’s footing was unsure, and as she made her way down the last few steps, she stumbled, landing on her hands and knees at the foot of the steps, nearly sobbing. 

“My lady, do you need help?” Alayne knew who the voice came from. 

_ I am Ned Stark’s daughter _ , she wished to shout.  _ You were my father’s friend, Ser. You helped him when no one else would, you know me _ . “Apologies, ser Barristan.” She let him take her hand and escort her down the hall. “My father wishes that I speak with Jon Snow, he believes that I should be more involved in the politics,” Alayne faked a smile. “I think that the Vale and the Dragon Queen could be great partners.” 

Barristan’s attitude changed, and he roughly dragged Alayne into a small room. 

“Ser Barristan, unhand me! What are you doing?” Barristan pushed her into a chair against the wall. 

“Don’t cry out, please. Sansa—“

“My name is Alayne.” She tried pushing past him, but he was much stronger than her. 

“You are Sansa Stark, don’t try to lie to your own blood now.” 

“Pardon me, Ser, but I am not Sansa Stark, and you are not by any means her blood.” Barristan sighed and leaned against the door. 

“I will show you something, do not scream.” Alayne panicked, knowing she could not leave. See Barristan had gone mad, it seemed.

Barristan placed his hand around his head, his fingers underneath his chin. He seemed to rip his own face off, and Alayne yelped. When he was finished, he was...she. 

“I said not to scream!”

“I didn’t scream!” The face was one she knew. The woman beneath the mask looked like her father, an older version of her sister, Arya. She would be about sixteen now. She had grown into her face, it seemed, and she was fair, with dark brown hair falling past her shoulders. Tears filled Alayne’s eyes once again. “Can it be true?” _The Gods have finally answered me...my father’s Gods. Sansa Stark’s father’s gods._

Arya smiled at her older sister. “I could never mistake your face.” The two sisters embraced. 

“How...”

“It’s better that you don’t ask questions. I will be Barristan, for now. I just...I needed to see you.” Alayne’s kissed her sister on the cheek. 

“No one can know I am Sansa.”

“No one can know I am Arya.” 

They laughed and embraced once more. “All these years...I’ve been told you were dead.” 

Arya looked down and chuckled. “I was told the same about you. As soon as I saw you in the throne room...and that little girl with...”

“Mother’s hair,” they said in unison. 

“Does Jon know about you?” Sansa pushed a stray hair out of Arya’s face. 

“No...but I would like him to one day. He should know you’re Sansa.” 

Alayne nearly wept. “He can’t...Petyr said so. He thinks it’s dangerous still for me.” 

Arya placed Barristan’s face back on. “No one needs to know,” she said, hugging Alayne once more. 

They exited the room, and Arya escorted Alayne to Jon’s chambers. She announced her as lady of the Vale, and left without another word. Alayne smiled. 

“Yes, what is it?” Jon looked up from a piece of parchment on his desk. 

“M-my father wishes that I speak t-to you.” Alayne stumbled on her words as she lied through her teeth to Jon. 

“Well go on, speak.” The harshness of his tongue caught Alayne off guard. He was not the same laughing Jon she remembered from her childhood. 

“As lady of the Vale it is my duty to make sure you are well enough accommodated.” 

Jon looked at her inquisitively. “Yes everything is sufficient, you may leave.” 

“Wait!” She blurted out. “My um...my husband, yes my husband. He wishes that you dine with us tonight.” 

Jon folded the parchment and crossed his arms over his chest. “My lady, I have had a harrowing journey. I wish only to be alone tonight.” 

Alayne smiled, and donned her courtesy armor. “No man should be alone in such a large castle.” 

Jon’s eyes softened, and Alayne pulled at her thumbs. “You are kind to say so, my lady. Perhaps I will then.” Jon walked over to Alayne, towering over her, and held the door open. “You may leave now.” 

“There is...one more matter I wish to discuss with you, my lord.” Feeling deviant, Alayne brushed her hair back. “We do not have a strong army here in the Vale. We do, however, have warriors in the mountain clans.” 

Jon stayed where he was, close to Alayne and looking over her.  _ Recognize me, you fool. You’re looking right into my eyes _ . “And why should this interest me?” 

“Well...back in the war of the five kings,” Alayne felt gooseprickles as she remembered Sansa Stark’s brother Robb and how he died in that war. “The Lannisters paid these mountain clansmen to fight for them. They were strong members of the vanguard from what I have been told. They could prove a valuable asset.”

Jon considered it. “We have little enough gold as it is, my lady.”

Alayne smiled. “That’s the beauty of my plan. They care naught for gold, they wish for land. Land where they can live unmolested. Your queen has the power to turn them into lords and give them castles and farms and cities when all of the fighting is done.” 

Jon smiled back at her. “Have you brought this up to your husband?” 

Alayne’s smiled melted away, like the many dreams before had. “He wants nothing of it. But if only you could see the importance of these clans, we could actually help.” 

“I shall have to discuss it with lord Harry and Ser Barristan. Perhaps that is reason enough for me to dine with your family. Good day.” Jon opened the door wider, and Alayne gave him a small nod as she left the room. 

It wasn’t until she closed the door to her chamber that she broke down. her chest was heavy and she heaved with strong sobs, tears blinding her and streaming down her cheeks. She buried her head in a pillow and screamed until her throat felt raw. Two members of Sansa Stark’s family were in the castle, but the most dangerous member of Alayne Stone’s family was also there. Jon and Arya could save her...but Petyr could pull her right back down by her hair. 


	5. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon goes to dinner hosted by lord Harry and lady Alayne.

_It’s just dinner_ , he thought . Dinner, then he’d be rid of Petyr Baelish and Harrold Hardyng. Lord Harry’s wife was pleasant enough, but the lord himself made for miserable company. There was something about his wife that felt like home to Jon; some distant memory stirred up by her face that had been erased after he was brought back from the world between worlds. Perhaps she was just a pretty maid and Jon’s idea of home was one of beautiful ladies and decorated Lords. He wanted to place the memory, but couldn’t. 

The table he was escorted to was eerily quiet, with faces staring up at him which belonged to strangers. There was lord Harry, seated at the head. He was already drunk and eyeing his wife in the pretentious way that lords often did. Jon didn’t understand it, but maybe he would if he was to ever wed. Lady Alayne was seated beside her daughter, and next to the child was a busty woman nearing thirty. Barristan was at Jon’s side, to his dismay, and Petyr Baelish sat opposite Jon, meaning Jon would have to make conversation with the sly lord. 

“My lord, I brought up to Lord Jon earlier my idea of buying the loyalty of the mountain clans—“

Lady Alayne was interrupted by her husband bringing his fist down on the table. She flinched, and brought her hand, which was previously rested atop his, back to her person, folding her fingers in her lap. “I already told you, it is out of the question.” 

“Why?” Jon ventured. “Once we rid the reach of the lords declared to Cersei, we’ll have plenty of land and gold to pay them with.”

Lord Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. “With respect, my lord, my wife has many such outlandish ideas. The Vale doesn’t have men to spare.” 

Jon could feel his face heating. They needed the loyalty of the Vale to win this war without leveling cities with Daenerys’s dragons. “With your respect, my lord, the Vale’s loyalties aren’t necessary to pay off the mountain clansmen.”

Lord Harry looked to Jon, baffled. His wife’s face went white. 

“What my lord means,” Barristan interjected, “is that we are willing to do anything for the Vale’s loyalty. The mountain clansmen would help greatly fighting in the vanguard.” Barristan shot Jon a look that said ‘shut up you’re being stupid.’ Jon wanted to slap the look off of him. 

“I think we should all settle down,” Petyr Baelish interjected. “This is not the time or place to discuss politics, my lords. Let us eat.” 

Lady Alayne tried to make pleasant conversation throughout the night, but Jon just found himself becoming more and more invested in the wine. Once he and Barristan had drunk and ate their fill, they dismissed themselves, without waiting for Lord Harry’s leave. 

Once out of earshot of the room filled with their various hosts, Barristan cornered Jon and pushed him against the wall, his arm on Jon’s neck, constructing his breathing. He tried to fight him off, but he was too drunk and too weak for the aging knight. 

“You’re an  _ idiot _ , Jon.” He spat the words out and Jon wanted to punch the smug twisted smile he bore. “Insulting the lord of the Vale at dinner? What were you  _ thinking _ ?”

Jon finally pushed Barristan off of him. “I was thinking that maybe his wife has a bit more sense than him.” 

“That’s not for you to decide. The plan is to gain their loyalty, if they don’t have men to spare so be it.” Barristan walked off, leaving Jon alone with his thoughts. 

There had to be another way, surely? They had dragons and plenty of foreign soldiers, they had Dorne and the Stormlands and they Riverlands, they had the wildlings and it wouldn’t take much to take the north. But the more men they had, the easier it would be. Jon sighed and backed against the wall, rubbing his face. 

Just then, lady Alayne appeared again. She gave a polite curtsy and muttered, “my lord,” before heading off. 

“Wait! My lady, please, come speak to me.” Jon spoke in a hushed voice so that her husband couldn’t hear them. 

“What do you need my lord? Should I have my serving ladies draw you a bath?” She smiled warmly. Something about her smile...

“Can your husband heat us?” She looked taken aback by the question, then gave a small chuckle. 

“He is passed out in my father’s bed, drunk. I was just about to retire to my chambers as well. Walk with me, would you?” Jon extended a hand for her to take as they paced through the halls of the keep. 

“Your plan for the mountain clansmen...I will bring it up with my queen.” Lady Alayne couldn’t hide her smile from Jon, and she looked to him with warm and inviting eyes. 

They rounded a corner and picked up the pace, but Jon wanted to move more slowly, he didn’t want to make it to his chambers too soon. “The mountain clans aren’t as brutal as my husband would make them seem. They have their own hierarchy, their own lords, and their own ‘cities’ of sorts. Buying their loyalty could be as simple as a small keep for each lord somewhere far from here.” 

Jon mulled over the idea. He had promised the wildlings something similar, so many years ago. “It sounds like a great plan. Why is your husband so opposed to it?” 

She pushed a lock of chestnut hair behind her shoulder. “I truly don’t know. Every time I have an idea that slightly opposes his, he shuts it down.” Jon couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the woman. “Thank you for your escort, lord Jon.” With a curtsy and a nod, Alayne opened a door and disappeared. 

The next morning, Jon stayed in bed and nursed his aching head while lord Harry held court. He couldn’t stand to see the man, and his sickness from the wine didn’t help him. Barristan entered a short while after Jon woke, to his dismay. 

“We’ve been invited out riding with lady Alayne and Myranda Royce.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i’m so bad at finishing multi chapter fics but i PROMISE i will continue with this one i swear it’ll be great


End file.
